Jean Ingelow

Married Lovers

by Jean Ingelow

Come away, the clouds are high,Put the flashing needles by.Many days are not to spare,Or to waste, my fairest fair!All is ready. Come to-day,For the nightingale her lay,When she findeth that the wholeOf her love, and all her soul,Cannot forth of her sweet throat,Sobs the while she draws her breath,And the bravery of her noteIn a few days altereth.

Come, ere she despond, and seeIn a silent ecstasyChestnuts heave for hours and hoursAll the glory of their flowersTo the melting blue above,That broods over them like love.Leave the garden walls, where blowApple-blossoms pink, and lowOrdered beds of tulips fine.Seek the blossoms made divineWith a scent that is their soul.These are soulless. Bring the whiteOf thy gown to bathe in lightWalls for narrow hearts. The wholeEarth is found, and air and sea,Not too wide for thee and me.

Not too wide, and yet thy faceGives the meaning of all space;And thine eyes, with starbeams fraught,Hold the measure of all thought;For of them my soul besought,And was shown a glimpse of thine --A veiled vestal, with divineSolace, in sweet love's despair,For that life is brief as fair.Who hath most, he yearneth most,Sure, as seldom heretofore,Somewhere of the gracious more.Deepest joy the least shall boast,Asking with new-opened eyesThe remainder; that which liesO, so fair! but not all conned --O, so near! and yet beyond.

Come, and in the woodland sit,Seem a wonted part of it.Then, while moves the delicate air,And the glories of thy hairLittle flickering sun-rays strike,Let me see what thou art like;For great love enthralls me so,That, in sooth, I scarcely know.Show me, in a house all green,Save for long gold wedges' sheen,Where the flies, white sparks of fire,Dart and hover and aspire,And the leaves, air-stirred on high,Feel such joy they needs must sigh,And the untracked grass makes sweetAll fair flowers to touch thy feet,And the bees about them hum.All the world is waiting. Come!

Source:

The Monitions Of The Unseen, And Poems Of Love And Childhood
Copyright 1871Roberts Brothers, Boston

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